


A High Price to Pay

by thesolemneyed



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drowning, Gen, Guilt, Magical Realism, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesolemneyed/pseuds/thesolemneyed
Summary: “It’s my friend,” he clarifies, edging closer. There is a chair on his side of the desk made of dark wood and furnished with velvet. Renjun considers how it is the colour of wine and blood even as the man waves for him to sit. “He’s in some trouble.”
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun & Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Na Jaemin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22
Collections: Challenge #5 — I heard a secret..





	A High Price to Pay

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round 5 of A Little Wonder Fest !!

The room is easy to find if you are desperate enough.

And Renjun is nothing if not a desperate man.

He adjusts his mask where it slips down his nose and raps lightly against the wooden door. The grain scratches against his knuckles uncomfortably, feeling like splinters on his unmarked hand.

The silence that follows hangs for longer than he expects, dragging dully over his skin. Not used to being kept waiting, he frowns and raises his fist again, only to find the door swinging open silently in front of him. The darkness inside stretches out to greet him andall the warnings, the cautions, the tales he’s heard urge him to turn back, to find some other way. He hesitates in the doorway, wishing it were that easy. Suppressing a shuddering sigh, he submits himself to the dark.

The room is cold, the hairs on Renjun’s neck prickling alert at the clammy dampness. Something is dripping, the sound echoing like a needle in his skull. He stumbles for a second on the uneven stone floor and he plants a hand against a slick wall to steady himself. Making a muted noise of disgust, he wipes his hand against his trousers, then startles when a quiet chuckle reaches him from the blackness.

“How may I help you, little lord?” The voice is low, little more than a whisper, a croak. Renjun’s head whips around to find the source and a candle flickers alight as he moves. Towering shadows dance on the walls around the man sat at the ornate table, casting pale light over his features. Renjun blinks against the sudden brightness; the shapes silhouetted against his eyelids.

The man is almost skeletal, long and thin and badly put together, like a half-finished puppet. His eyes and his mouth are dark in his face, shining at Renjun like the deep ocean. When he smiles, his teeth glint in the shifting light. The scent of lavender mixed with the imprint of something dangerous and rotten hangs in the air.

Renjun swallows the sour feeling on his tongue. “There is something you can help me with,” he says, resisting the urge to flinch at the hoarseness of his voice. He clears his throat and tries again. “I require something from you.”

The man’s face does not change, disinterest dripping from his features. “Most do, little lord, but that does not answer my question.” His voice is light, almost weightless, but deep like velvet.

More candles are lit now and Renjun can see the trinkets and whatnots dotted around the room, delicate and expensive and worthless and beautiful. Glimmers of gold tease the corners of his vision, but he keeps his eyes trained on the man behind the table. “It’s my friend,” he clarifies, edging closer. There is a chair on his side of the desk made of dark wood and furnished with velvet. Renjun considers how it is the colour of wine and blood even as the man waves for him to sit. “He’s in some trouble.”

The man nods, pursing his lips. “I’ve heard about a situation up at the palace.” He pauses, his dark eyes trained on Renjun’s. He feels like a bug trapped under glass. “This matter involves friends of the royal family.” A hint of intrigue has crept into his voice. “Are you sure you want to get involved in that, little lord?”

Renjun’s chest tightens as he watches the man’s lips snake into a smirk, but he sets his shoulders and lifts his head the way his father has ordered him to enough times. “He just acts erratically, without thinking. I’ve always told him he’ll get himself in trouble and this time,” his pauses, letting control seep back into his voice, “this time he really has.”

“And why is that your problem?” He sounds bored now, but his eyes are still trained on Renjun.

“Because he’s my friend,” Renjun says, exasperated. He finally takes up the offered seat. The material feels vaguely damp beneath his thighs and against his back. “He’s my only friend.”

The man exhales a long breath, the noise a whistling breeze in the air. “I’m assuming you know how this works.” His gaze is heavy, constricting. “You know what it is I deal in?”

Renjun nods jerkily, the movement twitching his mask a little down his nose and he scrambles to right it. “I know,” he says. “I’ve been told.” Warned, more like, but he feels that betraying any inkling of fear in this room would be unwise.

The man leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him. “And what have you brought with you to trade, little lord?” His voice sounds like silk sheets and muffled screams.

The dampness of the seat beneath Renjun makes him shift a little. “Well,” he hesitates, fiddling with the ruffles at his cuffs. The man tilts his head, his amusement potent, spurring Renjun on. “The Master of Ceremonies is bedding the King’s Herald, unbeknownst to either of their wives.”

It had taken Renjun some digging to unearth this tidbit, and several gold coins in the right pockets. But the man just shakes his head lazily. “I am not interested in the lives of courtiers,” he spits. He leans forward again. “Tell me something interesting, little lord. For your friend’s sake.”

Renjun had been expecting this, had come prepared. The first information was just a test, a distraction. He mirrors the man’s movement, resting his forearms on his thighs. “You want interesting?” He ignores the guilt twisting in his stomach. “The Queen is sleeping with the King’s brother, and the King is allowing it.” The silence that follows is tight around his stomach.

That is, until the man tips his head back and laughs loud and echoing. “Little lord, I deal in _secrets_. What you have brought me is common knowledge.” Confusion and panic begin to spark in Renjun’s chest and he frowns. The man sees this movement, despite his mask, and continues, “The world and his wife know about the King and Queen’s…little arrangement. They just act oblivious to please them.”

Empty noise is whirring in Renjun’s ears. The ace he thought he had hidden up his sleeveis crumbling to ash against his skin. He scrambles for something else to trade, some other morsel to offer.

The man’s eyes are cold as he smiles. “I apologise for being so rigid, little lord. But if I am to give you a secret that is going to save your friend, you will need to make it worth my while.”

The mask scratches dully at his cheek and sparks an idea in his mind. “I have something else,” he says slowly. “I could tell you who I am.” He isn’t sure if it qualifies as a secret,but the mask has kept his identity hidden from the man and he is willing to try anything to save Donghyuck. He is hoping against hope that a man in this business is curious enough to swallow this hook.

His stomach sinks dully as the man laughs again, this time harsher, crueller. “My prince, I knew who you were when you were stood hovering outside my door. I knew who you were when you made your mind up to come to me. I knew who you were when you were still in your mother’s belly, before even _you_ knew.” He shifts in his seat again, the chains around his ankles clinking faintly. “And what’s more, I know what you will become.”

The words send chills through Renjun and he shudders despite himself. The mask is nothing but a heavy reminder of his failure now so he fiddles with the laces behind his head and lets it fall into his lap. He doesn’t want to lift his face back up to the man, but he forces himself to anyway, swallowing the last tendrils of his pride. “Please, Doyoung, help me.”

At the sound of his name, Doyoung flinches minutely. His eyes dance away and Renjun can see his hands flicker into fists beneath the table. After several long breaths, their eyes meet again and there is the barest outline of humanity in Doyoung’s face. “I cannot give you a secret without receiving one in return, Renjun.”

Although his voice is soft, the words cut into Renjun like barbs. He pushes the chair back, the screech of wood against the clammy stone setting his teeth on edge. “Thanks for nothing,” he seethes, all his fear supplanted by rage.

“Wait.” He hesitates, breath loud. “I didn’t say you can’t help your friend. I didn’t say you can’t save Donghyuck.” Renjun knows Doyoung is not to be trusted, but the use of that name dissolves any restraint he might have.

He resumes his seat, holding Doyoung’s gaze steady. “Tell me more,” he demands.

Doyoung is regarding him curiously, but he simply makes a sweeping gesture with his hands. “Tell me what happened.” His face is empty, patient.

Renjun begins, telling the story the same way he had before the court, before his father, “We heard that the lake had frozen over from the Head Gardener’s son. We made a promise that the three of us would go together when we could. But I got sick, I couldn’t leave my bed. So Jaemin and Donghyuck went together and promised to take me another time,” he wavers hearing Jaemin’s name, even as it comes from his own mouth. “But the ice wasn’t thick enough to take their weight. Jaemin fell through and Donghyuck couldn’t save him and now he’s being threatened with banishment for irresponsibility.”

He swallows the hysteria building in his throat and forces himself to look steadily at Doyoung. The dripping noise is louder now, the droplets coming at a faster rate. He breaths through his nose, his jaw taught.

A war that Renjun will never understand is being waged behind Doyoung’s eyes. “I believe,” he says slowly, “the secret that will save him is one you already know.”

Cold fear crystallised in Renjun’s chest and he shook his head minutely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stutters. Doyoung lifts an imperious eyebrow and Renjun lets out a broken off sob. “I _can’t_.”

Because how can he?

How can he stand in front of the court and tell them how it was _his_ idea to drag Jaemin out to the frozen lake, leaving Donghyuck with merry promises that they’d take him another day if it was good, when he was feeling better?

How can he tell them how he heard the shattering sounds of the ice beneath Jaemin’s skates, watched as Jaemin’s flashing figure vanished into the ice; how his own feet stayed rooted to the shore, pinned down by fear, watching as the water spread slowly from the hole, right until the feeble splashing ceased?

How can he admit that he raced to Donghyuck’s chambers with tears still frozen on his cheeks, begging him to think of something, anything to help him; how Donghyuck held him in shock in his arms, rocking him slowly as Renjun shivered and shook and sobbed; how it was Donghyuck’s idea to let the blame fall on him instead, to keep the royal line untarnished and above reproach?

How can he say those things in front of Jaemin’s father? In front of his _own_ father? In the very room in which he’d watched Donghyuck plead for forgiveness, beg for a lighter sentence?

He had seen the cruel sneers on the eyes of the court, had heard their jibes about cowardice and weakness. He had watched Donghyuck’s face as they had said _he_ would never have acted like that, how, had the Crown Prince been there, Jaemin would have been spared from Donghyuck’s inaction.

The words echo in his head in the coldest hours of night, when sleep evades him and the guilt sits cold against his neck like a knife. They rang in his ears so loudly he could barely hear Jaemin’s eulogy. They scratch at the inside of his skull like demons.

He just wants to be free of them.

Doyoung is still watching him as he trembles in his seat. He hand twitches like he wants to reach out to him, but his chains chink in that moment and he pulls back, his eyes unreadable. “Well, you know what you need to save him,” he says, his voice frosty. “It’s up to you to decide if you’re brave enough to do it.”

The words _this time_ hang in the candlelight between them.

Renjun jerks his head in a quick nod, his palms clammy. “Thank you, Doyoung,” he whispers.

His chair scrapes the floor again as he rises to leave, the candlelight dimming once more into blackness. The dripping has slowed again now, but he can hear the chain links moving gently against one another. As he closes the door, he thinks he catches two muttered words, although he’ll never be sure.

“You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one - I'm actually very proud of it (sorry Jaemin!!) 
> 
> Come find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/thesolemneyed) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/thesolemneyed)
> 
> :3


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